by Robin Brande
Eliza sighed and sank back against his couch. “Garbage, huh?”
“Not garbage, just not...golden.”
Sitting wasn’t going to do it. Eliza needed to pace. Needed to work off the nervous energy from hearing someone tell her the truth to her face.
“I’m running out of ideas, Frank.”
“Take a break. You’re burned out. I told you.”
“But the newspapers expect something from me every two weeks.”
“So you’re on hiatus. Have everyone print something saying, ‘Eliza Shepherd is currently on vacation. Here are some of our favorites from the past,’ or something like that.”
Eliza stopped. “You could do that?”
“Sure, do it all the time. You think writers really go on vacation? They never do. Even when they’re away, they’re still in their heads. Don’t you write all the time, in your brain?”
“Used to,” Eliza said.
“Will again.” Frank ripped her essay in half. “Not that you couldn’t have fixed it,” he said, seeing the brief horror on her face, “but I don’t want you to. Write to your other papers. I’m telling you, they’ll understand. We all know what ‘vacation’ is code for. Go off and fix yourself.”
Eliza let out a very tense breath. And breathed in a more relaxed one. “Thank you, Frank. You really might be the best editor I’ve ever met.”
The man shrugged. “Been around, that’s all.”
“That’s not all,” Eliza said, “but thanks. You’re really wonderful.”
Frank gave a little wince.
“What?” Eliza asked.
“Maybe not so wonderful. I should probably tell you something.”
Eliza didn’t have a good feeling. “Okay.”
“I may have brought the stray in with me.”
“What does that mean?” Eliza asked.
“Ted Walsh. At Hildy’s party. He saw me buying flowers at his store, and I may have said too much. When I saw him walk in...”
“Oh...” Eliza nodded. “Okay. Mystery solved.”
“Sorry,” Frank said. “I know you wanted the other one.”
So he did know, Eliza thought. She wondered where he’d heard it.
She gave him a weak smile. “Yeah. Well. That’s life.”
“You go take your break,” Frank told her. “You’ll get it back. Counting on you, golden girl.”
* * *
“Bicoastal, huh?” Hildy said. “Sounds so continental.”
Eliza served her another helping of sour cream mashed potatoes. On the Thanksgiving table in front of them was just one other dish: Hildy’s famous homemade cinnamon rolls, made by Eliza this year, under her mother-in-law’s close supervision. Hildy had tried to make them herself, but didn’t have the strength in her arm yet to roll out the dough.
They’d decided not to make a turkey. Or any of the Easy Thanksgiving Side Dishes they’d taught to an enthusiastic class.
“What do you really want?” Hildy asked her as the two of them discussed their own menu.
“Really?” Eliza said. “In my heart of hearts? If no one was going to report me to the Thanksgiving police?”
So they’d settled on the two foods she always looked forward to the most.
We can do whatever we want.
She wondered if they went to his mother’s for Thanksgiving. Livia wore some perfectly elegant outfit, Mrs. Walsh seated her beside her, Mrs. Walsh actually spoke to her, since Livia was clearly a more appropriate choice for David than Eliza would be.
“Wives shouldn’t kill their husbands.”
“Sibylla, I couldn’t agree more.”
Or maybe Sue insisted Livia not be invited. She wouldn’t tell her mother why, but she’d effectively have Livia banned from any family events.
Eliza always liked Sue.
“So how would it work?” Hildy asked. “We move back and forth all year?”
“Right,” Eliza said. “We decide which months we want to spend here, which in Henderson. Then we trade off between our houses.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“I’ll do everything. You don’t have to worry.”
“I don’t know, honey...”
“Well, you think about it,” Eliza said. She got up to get them both refills on their wine. It had been so long since she’d had any, she already felt the effects after just one glass.
Which was why she wanted another. She decided she liked this feeling of numbness. Liked letting her brain have a holiday for a few hours. She didn’t have to think of something to write. Didn’t have to think of David, maybe, if she had a little more.
“I’m an old woman,” Hildy said when Eliza returned from the kitchen. “I’m not sure I’m up to flitting here and there all during the year.”
“It’s just one day of travel,” Eliza said. “Then you’d be back in your own bedroom, in whatever house we were visiting.”
“Visiting,” Hildy said. “That’s the problem. I like my house here. You like your house. We’d both just be visiting.”
“We’d get used to it, don’t you think?” Eliza asked. “Maybe it would be strange the first few times.”
“I don’t know,” Hildy said again.
Eliza took another sip of the dark red wine. “I don’t know, either, Hildy,” she admitted with a sigh. “I’m making it up as I go along.”
“Here’s to a Happy Thanksgiving,” Hildy said, raising her glass. “Wonder what the new Thanksgiving year will bring?”
“Nothing but good things, I’m sure,” Eliza answered.
The ice storm struck the next day.
36
It began around three o’clock. Eliza had just returned from the grocery store with ingredients for a pot of chili. After their mashed potato, cinnamon roll dinner the night before, Eliza wanted to get some real food into her mother-in-law’s belly, not to mention into her own. So she’d make chili and a huge tossed salad, and feel like she’d done her job.
“There’s a front coming in,” Hildy told her when she came upstairs. “They just did a news bulletin.”
“There’s something coming in,” Eliza agreed. “It feels very strange out there.” The sky was iron gray and the air had an odd quality to it. Eliza had been anxious to get home into the shelter of the house.
When the storm broke, it brought rain instead of snow.
“That’s not good,” Hildy said. “It’s going to freeze.”
The news reports confirmed it: glaze ice on the roads within what seemed like only ten or fifteen minutes.
“How can that happen so fast?” Eliza asked.
“Because the roads are all frozen from that last snow,” Hildy said. “Everything is. So the rain hits it and freezes right away.”
The news showed pictures of the freeways where cars had slid into each other or off the road. They showed pictures of post-Thanksgiving shoppers slipping and sliding on icy sidewalks.
“I’ve done that,” Hildy observed as they watched a middle-aged woman on the TV fall hard onto her back. “Hurts like hell.”
Eliza watched the reports in fascination and horror. “How do you people live like this?”
“You get used to it,” Hildy said. “We don’t like it, but what are you going to do?”
Move, Eliza thought, which was exactly what Jamey and his parents had done. To voluntarily come back to this...
“Better check our battery supply,” Hildy said. “And candles. You never know.”
“Never know what?”
“Rain hits the power lines, the lines freeze, the lines sometimes go down. Or tree branches break off and take the power lines with them.”
Eliza jumped to her feet in search of candles.
She also found the three flashlights Hildy remembered having in the house, then asked if there was anything else.
“There’s a generator downstairs, in the garage,” Hildy told her. “Should be. Unless the last tenants took it.”
Eliza looked at her blankly.
“A generator,” Hildy repeated. “You know what that is.”
“No...not really. I mean, it’s something you use when your electricity goes out, right?”
“You never used one?”
“Never had to,” Eliza said.
Within an hour, the lights went out.
* * *
Eliza shined the flashlight all along the walls of the garage, searching for the generator. She’d already been down there once, after Hildy described it, but hadn’t found it then. Now she knew it was urgent. It wasn’t just the lights that weren’t working, it was everything electric—including the heater. The house was still warm now, but that wouldn’t last if the power stayed off too long.
Eliza wasn’t afraid of the cold. She’d slept in below-freezing conditions many times. Jamey liked waking up to find frost or snow on the tent—he said it made it seem like more of an adventure. Eliza preferred warm, sunny days, but she’d learned to adapt. She could put up with the cold for weeks at a time, knowing they’d always return to the sun.
But asking her 70-year-old mother-in-law to sleep in a freezing house overnight? With no hot water or hot food? Not if Eliza could help it. She continued searching, moving boxes and lawn equipment, but never found the generator.
“You’re going to have to come down,” Eliza said. “I’m sorry. If it’s there and I’m just not seeing it...”
Hildy bundled herself in an extra coat and a blanket, and joined Eliza in the frozen garage. The space was never heated, so it gave them a taste of how the house might feel later in the night.
“You’re right,” Hildy said, “it’s gone.” There was no point in standing there cursing the former tenants. The two of them hurried back up the stairs.
Eliza ladled lukewarm chili into two bowls, glad she’d cooked it while she still had time. She and Hildy sat on the couch wrapped in blankets and quilts and ate what might be their last warm meal for a while.
The temperature in the house dropped faster than Eliza expected.
“Wish we had a fireplace,” Hildy lamented. “We could burn pieces of furniture if we had to.”
Eliza tucked the blankets and quilts around them again to keep any air from sneaking inside. Daisy lay burrowed between the two women. As long as no one moved, they had a warm cocoon for the moment.
It was around seven o’clock when the doorbell rang.
Eliza tucked Hildy and Daisy back in, picked up a flashlight, and quickly descended the stairs. Maybe it was a mercy call from one of the Jacksons, she thought. Maybe Carolyn had sent Will down to check on them. Maybe they had a fireplace, or surely a generator, and would take the three of them in for the night. Eliza couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. Somehow she’d thought of them as so isolated, when she should have asked for help hours ago. Yes, everyone was dealing with the same storm and the same outage, but not everyone lived in an old, unequipped house, or had a 70-year-old to look after.
Eliza yanked open the door. And shined her flashlight into David’s face.
Too stunned to speak, she just stood there. He had to move her hand to keep from being blinded.
“I came to see if you’re all right,” he said. “Your lights are still out.”
“The...power...” Eliza’s lips didn’t work. She hoped he would think it was because of the cold.
“My house has power,” David said. “I came to get you. You and Hildy can come back with me if you want.”
Eliza looked past him to where the rain pounded the driveway. David’s car sat there idling.
Her mouth still wasn’t responding. “You...have heat?”
“Heat, light, everything. Eliza, are you coming or not?”
“Yes. Yes. Coming.” She still felt awkward and slow. But she remembered to ask about Daisy.
“Yes, her, too, now hurry,” David said. “Before we all freeze.”
Eliza watched him return to his car, unable to tear herself away from the door. He was there—how was that possible? And why? She could stand there all night and never know, or she could take him up on his offer. For Hildy’s sake, she hurried back up the stairs and told her to get her toothbrush and whatever else she needed, they were leaving.
When they closed themselves into David’s car, the warmth hit Eliza like she’d landed on a beach.
“This will take a while,” David said. “The streets are bad.”
Eliza still didn’t know what to say.
37
“Nice place,” Hildy said, appraising the living room. As advertised, David’s house was warm and full of light. Eliza felt nervous, being there again, but Hildy’s dog immediately broke the tension.
“Daisy! No!” She ripped the leash out of Eliza’s hand and raced toward Bear. The Labrador wagged his tail and leapt while Daisy bared her teeth at him and barked.
Eliza reached for Daisy’s collar and prepared to pull them apart, but then miraculously, the terrier settled down. She scratched her paws against Bear’s dog bed, circled once, and plopped down on top. Bear lowered himself to the nearby rug and watched Daisy from between his front paws.
Eliza waited another moment, just to be sure, then unclipped Daisy’s leash. “Okay, then,” she said, straightening back up, hoping the matter had been settled once and for all.
Hildy was still inspecting the living room. “I like this place,” she told David.
“Thank you, I do, too.”
“So you’ve always lived here alone?” she asked, glancing meaningfully at Eliza.
Eliza glared at her in return.
“Except when it was my parents’ house,” David said. “Then we all lived here together.”
“I never saw it,” Hildy said. “Never got invited.”
Eliza hoped she wasn’t going to air out that grievance.
“I changed some things,” David said. “This is different than how they had it.”
“Bet your way is better,” Hildy said.
“Better for me,” David said. “Would you like a tour?”
Hildy grinned. “What do you think?”
* * *
Eliza waited in the living room for the two of them to return. She could hear them upstairs, Hildy laughing.
Would you like a tour?
David had said the same thing to Eliza.
Maybe he offered every woman a tour, she thought, young or old, and some tours ended the way theirs had. In bed, a brief passionate affair, then Next tour is on Friday, ladies, see you then.
Eliza shook her head. She didn’t want to think about him that way. Not after what he’d done to come for them that night.
She saw what he had to go through to rescue them: driving rain; slick, icy streets; broken tree branches tangled in the road; detours around downed power lines. It had taken them nearly an hour to drive what normally took ten minutes.
David could easily have stayed in his nice, warm, cozy house, done some work, and gone to sleep. Instead he’d ventured out in the storm to help them.
That had to count for something.
A lot, actually, Eliza thought.
* * *
“You don’t have to do this,” Eliza told David as she helped him change the sheets on his bed. She forced herself not to think about who had been in those sheets last. “We can sleep downstairs on the couches,” she said. “You’ve already done enough.”
“I don’t have a guest room, so it’s my own fault,” he said.
“No, really, David—”
“Eliza. It’s fine.”
The two of them looked at each other over the top of his bed.
“Thank you,” Eliza said.
“You’re welcome. Have you two eaten?”
“A while ago,” Eliza said. “And it wasn’t great.”
“Would you like me to cook you something?”
“Oh, David, that would be... Yes. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”
“I think I do,” Eliza said. “We could have managed, b
ut it would have been a very miserable night. I really appreciate what you’ve done. For Hildy especially.”
“I told you, I always liked Mrs. Shepherd.”
“I guarantee she likes you back.”
David looked at Eliza with what she thought later had been a sad sort of smile. “So. Dinner,” he said. “Let’s go see what I have.”
* * *
“You’re a good cook,” Hildy told David when they had finished eating his reheated chicken gumbo. She accepted a refill on her wine, and the three of them now sat in the living room.
“A lot of men think tearing the lid off a microwave dinner is cooking,” Hildy said. “Your brother thinks that.”
“Hildy...” Eliza warned.
“What? He knows he has a brother.”
“You’re right,” David said. “Ted doesn’t cook.”
“It’s too bad, because look how good you are,” Hildy said. “Did Sibylla teach you that?”
David laughed. “Do you really think my mother approves of men cooking?”
Hildy shrugged. “I taught my Jamey to cook, didn’t I, Lizzy? Even at eighteen he knew how to make his three basic meals.”
“Spaghetti,” Eliza recited, “meatloaf, and tuna noodle casserole.”
“That’s right,” his mother said. “And that impressed you, didn’t it?”
“It did,” Eliza confirmed.
“And now David’s impressed you, too.”
Eliza shot her mother-in-law a deadly look, which the woman ignored.
“So where’d you learn?” Hildy asked.
“My uncle Herbert,” David said. “He cooked for some restaurants in Syracuse before he opened his own. He let me help him on the weekends.”
Eliza shook her head and smiled.
“What?” he asked.
“I feel like I hardly know anything about you.”
“Well, whose fault is that?” Hildy said. “All you have to do is ask.”
Eliza met David’s gaze, then offered him a small shrug. “Oh, well.”
He nodded. Eliza could see they both knew that time was past.
She quickly changed the subject.
